A Hyster- What?

I had a partial hysterectomy at only twenty-six years old. It seemed to be the most emotionally exhausting period of my life. I knew the day would come, and I knew what it meant for me or so I thought. I had already given birth to a then seven-year-old child, but it was still challenging to accept.

One question remains, did I ask enough questions?

Here’s what you need to know:

Menopause is real.

It’s okay to cry.

You’re not losing your womanhood.

I grew up listening to the immediate women in my family discuss their hysterectomies or issues with having children after waiting for a long time after their first. I heard the horrible menstruation stories and lived through them myself. No amount of birth control pills or mechanisms could stop the large soaking of sanitary napkins and crucifying cramps that kept me bedridden for days at a time. I knew this time would come, the option for a hysterectomy. I was willing to go through with it, and I did.

A few months after the operation I was sitting with a fan in between my legs, the temperature on the a/c unit fluctuated between 68 and 80, and I was becoming a werewolf! I couldn’t last between waxes because the constant growth of hair made me sweat causing me to be even more irritable than I already was. Menopause welcomed me with a warm embrace. I let the hair grow. I bought more ice packs and allowed life to happen.

However, the maternity section at stores haunted me. I stared in despair at pregnant women. My newsfeed of gender reveals made me sob. I felt empty. My friends kept telling me how adoption was available and that I may meet someone who already had kids. I understood all of that but what I wanted so desperately was to feel little kicks inside of my belly. I wanted these fantastic maternity shoots that were popping up all over. Why did I have to feel happy about the choice of a surrogate, I wanted to experience what she could. I wanted to be pregnant. I still have my ovaries and a multitude of options, but at a time I mourned not being able to carry an unborn in my womb. It was my right to feel that way, and it was okay to cry.

I didn’t want to tell anyone new that I had the operation. I knew I was damaged goods when dating; I was only 26! How could I tell anyone that I couldn’t birth a child? Do I wait until we’ve hit it off? Do I sneak it in during small talk over our first date? “You look nice today, by the way, I got rid of my womanhood.” Um, what? We are created with the tools to make babies, but we are NOT baby making machines. As women, we have to know the difference and men aren’t allowed to think of us as such. So, however you choose to decide to tell the people in your life, remember, it doesn’t make you any less than a woman.

I knew there was a chance I’d become a hyster-sister at an early age but having the operation so young was most definitely tricky yet rewarding. I’ve learned to appreciate living in the moment good or bad because you never know when you get to feel that moment again. Please ask as many questions as possible from doctors and your peers. Be sure, be in control. You’ve got this!

This article was submitted by Chimere Williams

Chimere Williams is a Senior Copywriter at agency1408™, an optimization writer, and a mother. She provides content for various subject matters but focuses on lifestyle, fashion, events, and travel. Houston is where she resides but has deep roots in New York City and Chicago, her homes away from home. She leads a busy life and is often in the air. Where is she off to next? Follow her on Instagram and LinkedIn.